


Thermal Dynamics

by romanticalgirl



Category: Fantastic Four (Movieverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/"></a><b>inlovewithnight</b> who casually mentioned "You know, everyone talks about Johnny/Reed, but no one ever writes it". Also for Chris Evans for posing without his shirt on and making me think he'd be awful pretty pressed against a certain Welshman.</p><p>Originally posted 1-4-07</p>
    </blockquote>





	Thermal Dynamics

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/)**inlovewithnight** who casually mentioned "You know, everyone talks about Johnny/Reed, but no one ever writes it". Also for Chris Evans for posing without his shirt on and making me think he'd be awful pretty pressed against a certain Welshman.
> 
> Originally posted 1-4-07

Reed is drunk, but he thinks he’s supposed to be, since it’s New Year’s Eve and there’s wine and champagne and everything else, and the building is filled with people celebrating and dancing and eating and drinking, so there’s drinking, which means he should be drinking and drinking is always closely followed by drunk, at least in his case, and he’s fairly sure that Sue frowns on drunk and on drinking, at least in his case, so he slips past the crowds and the well-wishers and works his way to the lab where he’s still drunk but he’s alone, so he won’t be able to say something embarrassing that will end up blasted across the Super Hero Network or whatever channel it is that Johnny watches that has all the girls in Spandex.

The lab is quiet and dark except for the lights running on the spectral anticoagulatory regulator and the dim glow from his desk that reminds him he didn’t turn his computer off again, but he thinks he left it running numbers or Johnny wanted to run some numbers or _God_ that was really good champagne.

“God, that was really good champagne.” He says the words out loud and then smiles, amused by the slurred sound of his words like his tongue is stretching now instead of his skin and then he laughs at that thought and then he wonders why he hasn’t thought of that in bed with Sue, and then he sort of sobers up because Sue is a sobering thought.

“Want some more?”

He looks up, surprised at the shadow in the corner of the lab that’s moving and that, more importantly, has a bottle of the very good champagne. Shadows moving in his lab usually mean trouble, and champagne in their hands usually means even _more_ trouble, but the shadow resolves into Johnny, and Johnny _not_ being at a party probably means more trouble than Reed can handle.

“You’re not at the party.”

“Was.” Johnny’s been down lately and Reed’s chalked it up to the wedding getting closer, to having to wear a tux or to give away his sister, but it’s not like he’s getting rid of a sister so much as getting a stretchy superhero for a brother, and if he thinks about it, Reed could probably guess why the guy’s been glum. “Not anymore.”

“Avoiding all the nubile young women hoping that Johnny Storm can burn them up?” Reed blinks a little, surprised, because his tongue doesn’t sound stretchy and twisted anymore, and his voice isn’t slurred so much as low and rough, and he’s not sure when he started making anything that could be construed as innuendo. He’s not sure when he _learned_ how to make anything that could be construed as innuendo.

“All blonde, no brains.” Johnny smirks and takes a hit off the bottle then holds it out to Reed like an invitation.

“You like brains?”

Johnny smiles and there’s something dark to it, like the lick of a flame along a line of gas. “Not in the zombie sense, Richards, so nothing to fear there.”

Reed moves closer and takes the bottle, his fingers brushing Johnny’s, and it’s strange how warm he is. It shouldn’t be strange, after all, Reed’s studied Johnny inside and out through spectroscopes and X-rays and CAT scans and EKGs and EEGs and MRIs and every other acronym he can come up with including NASA and NORAD. But he never thinks that Johnny _feels_ hot, but he does, even just in a casual brush.

“Have to use the bottle. Glasses heat up too quick, and trust me, there’s nothing worse than hot champagne.”

Reed takes a drink and the champagne is a little less than cold, but not quite warm yet, and it’s still good and still bubbly and still makes his body feel loose in a way that has nothing to do with his skin. He takes a second drink and then hands the bottle back to Johnny. He licks his lips, watching Johnny’s eyes, watching Johnny watch him. Reed swallows air, and it tastes like Johnny and is just as intoxicating as the champagne.

“How do you…” He stops and wonders if he should ask. Can’t ask with Sue in the room, because, even though she’s a scientist and more worldly than he’s ever going to be, she’s still Johnny’s big sister. “During sex…How do you keep it under control? Does it…doesn’t it burn?”

Johnny doesn’t say anything, just sets the champagne aside, because it’s good and it’s expensive, and Reed would kill him if he let it drop and spill all over the floor. Reed doesn’t think about what it means, can’t think, because in the next second, Johnny loses control and Reed’s against the wall, against the door and Johnny’s against him and he’s close and he’s hard and he’s hot.

 _God, he’s so **hot**_.

Reed knows the temperatures Johnny can reach and this is nothing like supernova, but it does sear along his skin, along his veins, his blood boiling as Johnny pushes a knee between Reed’s legs and pins him, hands holding Reed’s wrists, and body holding Reed’s down and mouth open just over Reed’s, his breath like a flame.

Reed’s kissed five girls on purpose and two by accident and there was a moment with Viktor in college that passed before it happened, but there’s been nothing like this. This isn’t even a kiss, just the promise of one hovering over his lips. Johnny’s breath is hard and heaving in his lungs, warming Reed like he’s on the surface of the sun. Johnny shakes his head and releases Reed’s hands, starting to step back. Without thinking, Reed grabs him and pulls him in, not giving him the luxury of space or thought or time or breath. All Reed wants is heat, and Johnny’s the one way he knows he can have it, burning along his fingertips and setting fire to his blood.

“It always burns, Reed.” Johnny’s mouth settles over his, a slow, searching kiss, his tongue snaking around Reed’s until they’re tangled up together. Johnny groans and Reed fights his body’s responses, willing his tongue, his cock, the arms he’s slid around Johnny to remain their regular size. “Even before we got our powers.”

Johnny’s hand tightens on the nape of Reed’s neck and he holds him there, kissing him again. It’s different – he’s _teasing_ him – and Reed groans, letting Johnny’s tongue and teeth explore him, taste him. His body responds, but only in the ways he expects it to, only in the ways it always has. “Johnny.”

“Shh.” He bites Reed’s lower lip and tugs on it, releasing the flesh before Reed’s power can kick in. The fingers at Reed’s neck tighten and Johnny turns him, Reed’s chest hard against the wall. Johnny’s body is pressed to Reed’s, Johnny’s hand snaking down to undo the fly of Reed’s tuxedo pants. He strips them down and groans when he feels the simple cotton of Reed’s boxer briefs. “Thank God. I thought you wore that damn suit all the time.”

“H-hoped I might get…” He cuts off the sentence, because finishing it means thinking about Sue, and he doesn’t want to do that. Not now. Instead, he helps Johnny guide his boxer briefs down and finds practically his first useful purpose for his power as he reaches back across the lab and fumbles on a distant shelf for the flame retardant gel he uses in the lines of the Transformation Chamber.

Johnny laughs, and the sound is as hot as his breath, as hot as his touch as he takes the tube from Reed’s hand and opens it, pressing the cool substance against Reed’s skin. “Good thing you’re such a Boy Scout, Richards. Know this stuff is safe for humans and not tested on animals.”

“G-given how often we get attacked here…” He loses his thought as Johnny’s fingers slide into him, his body again reacting, stretching away from the penetration.

Johnny growls against Reed’s neck, his teeth grazing the skin, his fingers sliding deeper. “Stop thinking, Reed.”

He nods and tries – he does – but then Johnny’s fingers go deeper and then they’re gone and his breath is hot on Reed’s neck and then there’s pressure and he reacts, he can’t not, and then Johnny’s tongue is just below his ear and his teeth are teasing skin and his hand is on Reed’s cock and his cock is buried deep inside Reed.

“Tight, Reed. I want it tight.”

Reed groans and clenches every muscle, every tendon, fighting his body’s desire to stretch and expand and repel. Johnny’s hand tightens on Reed’s cock and he can feel the shift of skin and he whimpers, hating this power, hating himself.

“Reed.” Johnny’s voice is as low as a banked fire, sparks shooting along Reed’s spine. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He shudders at the words, as something clicks in his brain – formulas coalescing, problems unraveling - and it all comes down to this. Fight or flight, not math or science or higher function. This is base human function, base human need. The reptile in his brain responds and he reacts and…

Pain blossoms through his body and he jerks himself back to the moment, his blood throbbing where Johnny’s teeth have sunk into his skin. “Stop. Thinking.”

Reed nods and does as Johnny says, giving himself over to flesh and sensation, to the push of Johnny’s body and the pull of his hand. The lab is alive with sounds and science, but all Reed can hear is the pound of his blood and all he can feel is the throb of his shoulder and the hard pressure of Johnny’s cock and then all he can see is the flash of light and the world spinning away as he comes, his body constricting around Johnny tight enough to elicit a low, desperate moan and a corresponding thrust of heat that Reed thinks might burn him up from the inside if it didn’t feel so _fantastically_ good.

**

They don’t say anything for what seems like hours as Reed fixes his tuxedo and Johnny fixes his suit. Johnny drinks champagne as Reed cleans up the wall, then offers him the bottle. “Warm now, but I can safely say it’s not my fault.”

Reed takes a drink and he’s not drunk, but he’s not sober and he looks at Johnny over the thick, dark glass. “You know, they say Superman can’t have sex with a woman, because his sperm is so alien it would blow off the top of her head if he ever had an orgasm.”

Johnny fights a smile and then lets it go, giving in and grinning from ear to ear. “They _say_ that?”

“No. No one says that, but you know it’s true.” He leans against the desk, looking down at Johnny. “Of course, Superman doesn’t have his own live-in scientist to help him with stuff like that.”

“Is that what you are?” Johnny reaches out and Reed hands him the bottle, but Johnny ignores it and runs absent fingers down Reed’s thigh. “My live-in scientist?”

Reed shivers and he’s not sure what this is or what he wants or, more importantly, if whatever this is is what he wants. “What every superhero needs.”

Johnny laughs and stands and takes the champagne from Reed’s hand. “Not the only thing that every superhero needs.” He grins and it’s quicksilver and flash. “Just ask Superman.”  



End file.
